


Dirty Bird

by arkhams



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Horror, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkhams/pseuds/arkhams
Summary: Arthur has been watching you for weeks and came up with the perfect surprise. Getting locked up by their secret admirer is everyone's dream, after all. This was supposed to make you happy.Think Misery meets Saw. Set after the events of Joker if Arthur didn't end up in Arkham.





	Dirty Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Ashley (arthur-j-fleck.tumblr.com) & Alsace (archiveofourown.org/users/Alsatian) for helping me edit this chapter! I do not know what grammar is!

Covered in goosebumps, a dull pain heavying your head, you wake on a cold, damp concrete floor. For a moment you can’t move and remain there, hair plastered to your face, listening to the steady dripping of water across the room.

_ What’s going on? _

Something clicks and you jerk upright. It’s dark, but light glimmers on the walls. Worse than a prison cell, you don’t even have a bed. A silver toilet gurgles in the corner.

Behind you there is a rusted gate revealing a narrow path. No sound comes from there. You push yourself up, knees buckling at first, and walk towards it.

Paint flakes off on your hands as you try to see through the bars. They’re too close together for you to see more than a few feet of empty concrete, but there’s a clock on the wall outside, eleven minutes past eleven.

You notice the bruises on your wrists. Thin, purple rings.

_ What do you remember? _

Handcuffs.

This makes your head spin and you cling onto the bars, your heart slamming against your chest. Remembering hurts. None of this is real.

Footsteps.

You let go, step backwards and then fall, crying out when your shoulder hits the ground.

The sight of him brings it all back.

You push yourself further from the gate until you’re against the wall and he watches you, curled as you were around the bars. He smiles, gently lifts his hand and waves.

You don’t move.

Arthur’s smile drops away and he rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically. Still holding the bars, he drops down to sit at your level, and he allows his leg to slide through the gaps. He’s waiting for you to say something. A morbid kind of kid at the zoo.

Still, you don’t move.

Arthur pouts and drops his head forward against the bars, smearing them with white paint. “Don’t be  _ mad. _ ”

_ Is that a joke? _

Your confusion must show on your face, because it’s only a second before he breaks into a laugh. “I’m  _ sorry _ , okay?” He doesn’t look apologetic, he is gleeful, beaming. He looks excited. “Listen, I had to – there was just a couple seconds to think about it, I had to make a call, and – look, here, I brought you something.” From the inside pocket of his jacket, Arthur pulls a small box, wrapped in yellow paper and tied with a bow. He holds it out through the bars and waits for you to take it.

You stare at him.

“Come on. It’s for you.” He shakes it.

You can finally move and when you do you shake your head, numb lips pressed together.

Arthur tuts sympathetically and nods, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wanna take it slow? You’re right, you’re right – we barely know each other.” Holding himself steady on the bars, he reaches in to put the box on the ground. You flinch when he drops it. “There. Whenever you’re ready.”

You’d been at work, you hazily recall. You’re still in your uniform, GNB stitched over your heart. The back of your head hurts so much. It’s swollen when you touch it and your hair is matted with blood. Your eyes begin to sting, but you’re cold and numb and you don’t feel the tears when they run down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Arthur crosses his arms around the bars. He’s still smiling, but there’s a flash of doubt, uncertainty. “You want me to do it?” You don’t answer him, so he reaches down to take the box back. “You want me to open it for you? Here, you’re gonna  _ like _ it. You can trust me,” He insists while pulling out a knife, cutting the ribbon and tracing a line beneath the lid. He repeats to himself that you can trust him, that this  _ is _ for you, that you  _ are _ going to like the gift he’s brought you.

You’re still wondering if this is real.

Arthur peels off the wrapping paper and bites the red smile stretching his bottom lip, pausing to think before holding the box out to you one last time. “You’re sure you don’t wanna open it? It is  _ yours _ . You’re ruining the surprise.” He flicks the paper on the ground. “I did the hard part. C’mere.”

You really don’t want to.

“Don’t make me beg.”

You wipe your face then shuffle forward. Arthur’s eyes are gleaming. So bright, so excited. You take the box.

When you speak, your voice sounds rough, all used up, “What is it?”

Arthur squeaks in excitement and taps his fingers quickly on the bars, “Open it!”

So you do.

The box drops to the ground as you, cry out in horror and then cover your mouth. You shoot to your feet to hunker back against the wall. You’re covering your eyes. None of this is real.

A bent, bloodied name tag lies next to the box.

**GOTHAM NATIONAL BANK**  
**SCOTT WAGNER**  
GENERAL MANAGER

Arthur is laughing so hard he can’t stand and when he finally does has to pull himself up by gripping the bars. “You—” he manages before stopping to catch his breath. Through his lingering smile confused disappointment seems to bleed, “You don’t like it?”

You stammer, stray letters and sounds falling from your mouth. You saw Wagner this morning. You went to get coffee and got him one too. Through tears you’re staring at Arthur again. Stiffening, he lets go of the bars, and the blurred corner of his mouth twitches.

“I heard you say this was what you wanted.”

_ When have you ever been around him? When has he heard you say  _ anything, ever?!

“You said -- I  _ heard you _ say to your friend, you said, ‘ _ fucking drop dead,’ ‘I wish he’d drop dead. _ ’ Remember? D’you remember when you said that?”

Wiping your tears away, you sob quietly and shake your head before tightly wrapping your arms around yourself.

Arthur touches his face and white paint rubs away, revealing the yellowed skin underneath. He’s blinking quickly, eyes darting around the floor and over to you, his eyebrows furrowed in quiet disbelief as he tries to work out what’s happening

“I don’t understand why--” His voice trails off. Disgusted, he looks once more at you and then turns away scowling, pressing his tongue inside of his cheek.

“ _ Wait--”  _ you call after him, pulling yourself back towards the gate. A bullet hits the ground by your feet and you jump back, hearing yourself whimper.

You watch him walk away. He doesn’t come back.


End file.
